


Photographs Of Time

by thinkpink20



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink20/pseuds/thinkpink20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’ve got lots of places left to see.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographs Of Time

**Author's Note:**

> For punkfunkdisco

The sun is setting over somewhere called Alcoon; it’s surprisingly earth-like, making everywhere glow warm and orange, giving Rose a peaceful feeling. The sound of Alcoon’s most prominent marketplace shutting down in the background reminds her of walking through London on her way back from Henricks in the evening just as the stallholders were packing up for the day.

The occasional foreign howl of an Alcoonian reminds her this is hardly South London, though.

“I’ll trade you... an Alcoonian groat for your thoughts,” the Doctor says, taking out a foreign coin cut in the shape of a star and flashing her one of those dazzling grins.

“I was wishing I had a camera,” she says, listlessly. “We go to all these amazing planets and see all these amazing things and we never even keep a _record,_ you know?”

The Doctor scoffs. “This isn’t Margate, Rose. Besides, who’re you going to show them to?”

“I could show them to Mickey,” she says, feeling silly. “And anyway, I’d like to keep them for myself.”

The orange glow from the Alcoonian sun lulls her into a quiet thoughtfulness again for a moment until suddenly beside her, the Doctor jumps up.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s go and get a camera. I think there’s one lingering about in the back of the TARDIS somewhere; I can have a tinker with it, make it a bit more Earth 21st Century.”

Rose immediately has a vision of one of those old Victorian cameras that stood on a tripod and a piece of cloth for the photographer to hide beneath when looking through the lens so he could get a good view of his subjects.

“Just how old is it, exactly?” Rose asks, feeling suddenly wary as they leave the Alcoonian sunset behind and head back to the TARDIS.

But the camera-hunting never happens, because as soon as they get back inside the cool interior of the Doctor’s ship (her _home),_ there are three red lights flashing and a klaxon going off, warning of some imminent disaster occurring on Lafan, the planet they have just left, and they have to go back.

After that, the conversation about the camera gets forgotten in a life or death struggle to free the caged Lafani prisoners being held by the corrupt planetary ruler and several trips immediately after, one involving an unfortunate chance meeting with a Slitheen.

It is nearly three months later (Rose can’t tell; time doesn’t pass the same way in the TARDIS as it does on Earth – ideas of weeks and months just sort of blur into one and that’s the way she’s grown to like it) when she wakes from a nap on the bench in the main control room and finds the Doctor grinning at her.

“What? Was I snoring?”

“Yes,” the Doctor says, “But that was more cute than funny.”

“So why are you grinning like that?” Rose wipes the side of her mouth, suddenly rather embarrassed about drool.

“I’ve got a present for you.”

And then she sees that one hand is held behind the Doctor’s back, concealing something from her.

“Oh God,” she says, immediately unsure. “This isn’t some Time Lord shot at hospitality, is it? A baby Nesteen Consciousness for me to raise and parent or something?”

“No!” The Doctor replies, indignant. “It’s no such thing.” He seems to deflate before Rose’s eyes. “I don’t want to give it to you, now.”

Rose laughs. “Oh come on, don’t be weird, I was only messing about. What is it?”

And then, grinning again like the cat who got the budgie (as her mother would say), the Doctor produces the oldest, most ancient looking camera Rose has ever seen. It’s not exactly on a tripod, but it looks like it’s only the next version up.

“I know it looks like it’s about to fall apart, but I’ve done some re-wiring.” He gives the sonic screwdriver, sitting on the TARDIS console, a friendly pat and hands the camera over to Rose. “What d’you think?”

In all honesty, she’s never seen a worse looking thing. And she highly doubts that she’d ever get the pictures off if because she can hardly take it into Boots and bung it down on the counter but still –

She smiles.

“It’s brilliant.”

And she means it. Because even if they do have to take a trip back in time to the era that produced such manual photo processing, she has no doubt the Doctor will get them there – and back, which was often more tricky – safely. And they’ll probably bump into some hugely important historical figure on the way or something; probably even save their life once or twice.

The Doctor grins at Rose’s grinning. “I know it wasn’t quite what you were expecting, but – “

She cuts him off by enveloping him in a hug, standing on her tiptoes and feeling the soft, worn material of his pin-stripe brown suit rub reassuringly against her chin.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“We can get one of those scrapbook things,” he ploughs on enthusiastically as she lets go of him. His arm, she notes, stays snugly about her waist and fits in a way that is both sad and perfect at the same time. “And you can get your photo taken with an Ood or something.”

Rose can’t help but grin, if only simply at his enthusiasm – it’s catching. It always has been.

“Will it be a big scrapbook?” she asks, a flare of hope sparking warmly in her stomach. She knows she shouldn’t push him, shouldn’t keep asking for reassurance. But sometimes she needs to know.

“Definitely,” he says, squeezing her side almost imperceptibly. “We’ve got lots of places left to see.”


End file.
